You buy a crisp, firm bag of seedless red grapes at the grocery store with high-minded ambitions of healthy family snacking, only to witness them undergo a terrifying biological collapse within twenty-four hours.
Yesterday they were taut and refreshing; today they have morphed into a science experiment resembling a bowl of deflated eyeballs floating in lukewarm purple syrup at the bottom of the crisper drawer. You poke the bag with one finger, fully expecting a hostile life form to hiss at you. You throw the entire bag straight into the outside trash bin, vowing never to succumb to health consciousness ever again.
